Secret Needs
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: After only a few months of marriage, Mary accidentally sees Matthew in a moment of private intimacy. What's a new, inexperienced wife to do?
1. Chapter 1

Crawley House – September 1920

Mary busied herself in the kitchen, sipping her morning coffee and chatting with Mr. Carson. She liked waking up with the house; her house…no, she thought, _their_ house. The thought brought a smile to her face. She and Matthew had been married four months and she liked married life and keeping their home together.

"More coffee, Lady Crawley?" Carson was holding the coffee pot, awaiting her reply.

"No thank you, Carson. But I think I could take a cup upstairs to Matthew?"

"Certainly, ma'am," Carson said crisply, already pulling out a cup and saucer from the cupboard.

"Carson," she started her gentle speech she had already given him numerous times, "you know you don't have to call me ma'am." She smiled sincerely at him. "Honestly, I've known you my whole life—you practically raised me."

He poured the steamy black coffee in to the cup as Mary spoke. "Alright, my lady, if you insist." He looked up at her granting her request but clearly at odds with it.

But Mary smiled in return, and then she reached for the cup.

Carson held a hand out. "Oh, no, my lady, allow me to take that up to Mr. Crawley!"

"Nonsense, Carson. I don't mind at all."

"Are you sure my lady?"

"Yes, yes, of course. It will give me a chance to say good morning to him before he leaves for work."

Carson sighed and relented, carefully placing the cup and saucer on a small tray and handing it to Mary. "Please be careful, my lady. It is quite hot."

"Thank you." She gingerly but efficiently took the tray and turned to make her way toward the second floor, leaving Carson to smile after her.

As Mary arrived the top of the stair case to the second floor, she walked to the master bedroom, peering around for her husband. "Matthew?"

"Yes?" His voice came from the dressing room.

The dressing room door was closed so Mary leaned in and spoke through it. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I thought you might like a cup of coffee."

The door opened and Matthew stood in his navy blue dressing gown, scratching his head, smiling at her. "Good morning, sweetheart. What's all this?" he said looking down over the tray.

"I just thought you might like a cup of coffee while you dress for work." Mary regarded him endearingly, holding up the tray. He still had his morning face; his hair was disheveled, standing up on end, his eyes still waking up, but a crooked grin turned up the corners of his mouth.

Matthew glanced down at the tray and then back in to her warm brown eyes. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" He slipped a finger in to the small handle of the coffee cup and raised it to his lips, sipping the warm beverage.

Mary pondered his question coquettishly. "Hmmm, come to think of it, no you haven't," she teased him lightheartedly cocking her head to one side.

"Really? Dash it all, I must be slipping." He bent his head toward her, placing a soft loving peck on her lips.

She chuckled against his kiss, tasting the coffee he had just sipped. "Your whiskers tickle."

"Yes, I suppose I should finish dressing for work. Would you excuse me darling?"

Mary nodded, "I'll leave you to it then." She turned and headed out toward the hallway, happy with herself and their life together. She walked down the hall toward the main bathroom. Glancing in, she happened to notice that the door to the linen closet was open. Mary walked in to close it and then noticed some towels stacked on a wicker stool in the closet, needing to be put away on a shelf. Stepping inside she leaned down to pick up the towels, and just then the old louvered closet door closed behind her, slamming shut.

Mary stood up and tried to open the door with the handle. The door didn't budge, apparently jammed. She jimmied the door handle, trying to force the door open, but to no avail. The door rattled as she shook it, so she stopped, blowing a stray hair off her forehead in frustration. She put her hands on her hips pondering her options.

Just then, Matthew walked in to the bathroom, shutting the door to the hallway closed behind him. Mary started to say something, but for some reason she stopped. She watched him through the louvered slats, which were angled down in the just the right way to see him through.

He arranged his razor on the glass shelf above the sink and he assessed his own image in the mirror. Mary stood watching him, inwardly smiling that she could spend a few moments innocently spying on her husband.

He pulled the sash of his robe, letting it fall open, and shrugging the dressing gown off over his shoulders. Having only seen him completely undressed in the dim evening light of their bedroom, Mary admired his body in the morning light. He was over six feet tall, and she loved how long his legs were and the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. She couldn't help but frown at the darkened skin on his lower back, a permanent scar from his war injury. Damned war, she secretly thought.

He turned around and she immediately noticed he was slightly aroused. Her eyes followed him as he stepped over to a chair beside the sink. Sitting down Matthew made himself comfortable and stretched out his legs. His hands smoothed down the front of his body, down over his abdomen and over his groin.

Mary's eyes widened as she watched him carefully massage his manhood, stroking one of his hands over it. As he touched himself, Mary noticed his body respond and become aroused. Her mouth fell open, stunned to see Matthew pleasuring himself in such a way. Being married for only four months, she was not experienced in such things. Did all men do this? She wondered.

His hand stroked his length, fisting around it, his fingers gliding over the full head. His other hand brushed over his large dark sac, his fingertips rubbing against it. His head fell back against the bathroom wall, making a quiet thudding sound.

Mary was mesmerized. The sight of his aroused body was beautiful and she was compelled by the sight of his movements. She watched intently as his hand curved around his hardened shaft, moving up and down the length, pumping it. He paused and reached over to a hand cream jar on the counter. He opened it, dipped his fingers in to the cream to slick his hands, and his palms glided over his body more easily. Mary was dumbfounded, not sure whether or not she was more stumped to learn how her hand cream was disappearing so quickly, or to discover that her beloved husband's most masculine appendage was scented with lavender.

His hand moved more quickly now, pumping his stiff cock, his fingers concentrating on the plump crown, which had grown dark and purple. Matthew panted and clenched his teeth, a quiet groan rumbling up from his chest. Mary raised a hand to her mouth to cover her breathing, feeling herself become wet at the sight of him. All she could think about was kneeling between his legs and touching him in the same way he touched himself, moving her hands and mouth over him, pleasuring him. Mary knew he was close to his release but she had never actually watched it happen. She bit her lower lip hard in anticipation.

Suddenly his body froze, just as it did at the peak of their lovemaking. His eyes opened and he glanced down as his hand rapidly pumped his shaft. He groaned through clenched teeth, "Oh God!" and suddenly his release gushed from the tip of his cock, spurting up on to his chest and abdomen. His head fell back in ecstasy and his breath hitched as several more globs of thick white essence shot on to his torso; he moaned and his body shuttered as more seed dribbled out over his pumping hand and down over his sac. Mary noticed his hand stopped and squeezed the base of the head, as the fingers of his other hand grazed over the crown, pulling a deep moan from within him.

Mary was trying to calm her own breathing. Watching her beloved husband in such a way was the most beautiful, arousing thing she had ever seen. Yet, she wondered if she wasn't satisfying him one some way? Did he do this all the time? The thought of it made her anxious.

He was quiet now, catching his breath. Mary stayed as quiet as she could as Matthew stood up, washed his hands, and returned to the business of getting ready for work. He turned on the water for the shower and began bathing. Listening to the running water, Mary sat down on to the wicker stool, thinking about who she could ask about this? Then it dawned on her that she had an appointment with Dr. Clarkson that very afternoon. _Yes!_ she thought. He would be perfect to mention this subject to, in general terms of course. She had discussed the subject of intimacy with him before. And surely if he was trusted enough to examine her, he was trusted enough to broach such a private intimate subject with?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the water shutting off. She smiled at Matthew's efficient one minute bath—a leftover ritual from his Army service. He put his robe back on and she rested her chin on her hand as she watched him brush his teeth and shave. As he did so, he hummed a little tune and it made her smile. He liked music and she tried to guess the tune he was humming. And then it came to her…

"…_If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy_."

As he was finishing his shave and toweling his face, Mary stood up quietly, knowing she had to exit the closet the minute he was back in his dressing room. She paused at the door, watching as he opened the bathroom door and walked out and across the hall to his dressing room.

Mary turned the door knob and shoved her shoulder against the door, causing it to fly open, so that she stumbled out in to the room. Before leaving the closet she put the towels up in the shelves as she had begun to do before getting locked in. She walked back out in to the hallway, and found herself bumping directly in to Matthew.

"Where did you come from?" he asked sweetly, tying his necktie.

She was slightly out of breath, but smiled. She was genuinely glad to see him. "Oh, I was just putting some towels away." As she watched his hands work his tie, she couldn't help but think about what his fingers were just doing twenty minutes earlier. She still felt aroused and reached up and tenderly swatted his hands away and began finishing the knot of his tie.

He looked at her lovingly, and his eyes looked down at her mouth, noticing a small spot of blood. "You have a little injury on your lips, darling." He touched a finger to her chin, assessing the cut where she bit her lip. "I certainly hope that isn't something I did?"

She smiled up at him. "No, no…I was just clumsy."

As she put the finishing touches on his necktie, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, his tongue slipping out ever so carefully to lick the blood from her lip, and kissing her. "What is on your agenda today?"

Her entire body was tingling from his kiss. "I have an appointment with Clarkson."

"Oh?" He tipped his head in curiosity as he stepped back in to the bathroom and looked in to the mirror to comb his hair. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Just routine." She sighed, leaning against the door frame. "I'll have to check my calendar to remember how many days since I started my last lady cycle. It's a question they always ask."

"Well, you can report that it has been fifteen days." He was still busy brushing his hair as he spoke.

Mary stepped in to the bathroom, stunned at his reply. "What was that?"

He glanced at her. "I said it's been fifteen days since your last cycle started." He said it matter of factly, as though he were reciting the weather forecast.

Mary stood in surprise. "How would you know that?"

He set the brush down and turned toward her. "Because I live with you." He smiled and stepped around her, heading back in to his dressing room.

Mary followed him. "No, I mean, how did you know the precise number of days?" She was fascinated.

Matthew was pulling on his suit jacket. "Because I observe the little signs."

Mary crossed her arms and smiled. "Like what, may I ask?"

"Well, for one, when you start your lady cycle you stop undressing in front of me. You also wear more nightclothes to bed, and you sleep further over on your side of the bed."

Mary blinked, taking in his deductions. "Anything else, Sherlock?"

He slid the loose change sitting on top of the dresser in to his hands and slipped it in to his pants pocket. "Yes, but it's not really anything you want me to know, so I won't confess that I actually do." He opened his wallet and checked the cash, and then slid it in to his jacket breast pocket.

"You are amazing Mr. Crawley."

He stopped in front of her and smiled. "I'm glad you think so Mrs. Crawley."

"I should be embarrassed." Her cheeks were flushed from listening to his personal observations about her.

"Don't be. It is a perfectly natural thing to do. It is what makes you a woman, and what enables you to have a child. Besides, my father was a surgeon so I grew up learning out human physiology."

Mary spoke quietly. "And what about you? Do you have any little physical secrets? Things you do by yourself?" She held her breath.

He looked deep in to her eyes. "Of course. And I'll leave it to you to deduce the signs." His eyes sparkled with suggestion and then he disappeared down the stairs.

Mary couldn't wait to talk with Clarkson and to figure out a way to do with Matthew what she had fantasized about while watching him earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

Mary sat in Doctor Clarkson's office, buttoning up the last two buttons of her white blouse and straightening her light tan cotton skirt. As she arranged her short white afternoon gloves in her lap she pondered how she could discreetly bring up the subject of what she had seen Matthew doing in their bathroom that morning.

There was a knock at the door and the soft sound of Clarkson's Scottish brogue. "Mrs. Crawley? May I come in again?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, patting her hair twist-up in back of her head ensuring every bobby pin was in place. She was adamant about being called Mrs. Crawley, preferring to use her married name instead of her title.

The door opened and Clarkson entered with his usual professional comportment, wearing his white coat. "Well, I think everything is in order Mrs. Crawley. I've run some initial tests and you are quite healthy." He smiled at her as he turned on the faucet at the sink and washed his hands.

"Oh, well, that's certainly comforting. Thank you."

Clarkson still had his hands under the cool running water. "And how is married life? Treating you well I think," he looked over his shoulder at her.

Mary nodded and a slight blush rose to her cheeks. "Yes, of course. Pardon me for blushing. It must be the warm weather."

Clarkson shook the excess water off his hands and reached for a towel. "In my line of work a blush on a married woman is a good sign." He dried his hands vigorously.

"I did have one question though…" She blurted out the comment and then immediately chastised herself for asking the question so abruptly—she didn't want to imply a problem existed.

"Oh? What may I help you with?"

Mary's eyes studied the gloves in her lap before speaking, second guessing her desire to learn about this subject. "Well, it's just something I thought I should ask, but perhaps it can wait."

Clarkson sat on a chair across from her, his clean hands folded in his lap. "Are you sure? I would be happy to answer any questions I might be able to help with." His voice was warm and tender. He knew married life had many unknown aspects for new brides, as well as grooms, and he had always been aware of Lady Mary's stoic disposition. "You know that anything we discuss is always in the strictest of confidence."

Feeling more reassured, Mary looked up cautiously and phrased her question carefully. "Well, I suppose I was just a little curious about….men and their personal habits, so to speak." She looked up and regarded the doctor directly, her expression uncommitted either way.

"Oh?" has asked. "In what way?"

"Well, just that…" she paused and glanced down at the gloves again. "I was wondering about men and any personal or secret needs they may have about their person?"

Clarkson listened, trying to decode the question in between the socially acceptable language Mary was using to phrase it in.

"That is to say, whether or not a gentleman might on occasion explore himself in an intimate manner in private?"

_Ah_, Clarkson thought…now he understood. He nodded gently keeping his tone kind but professional and detached. "I think I see what are you asking and the answer would be yes. There are, in fact, times when a gentleman might, er, examine himself in such a manner." He paused, not sure how much information Mary would be interested to learn.

"Oh? And that is fairly typical" She was looking at him earnestly.

"Yes, quite. Years ago, of course, religious and societal influences incorrectly viewed it as having possible adverse affects. But today, the conventional wisdom of the well educated medical community is much different. It is perceived as quite natural and possibly even beneficial. In fact, the Americans conducted a medical study during the war. The medical college at Harvard University…"

"Oh, yes I know of Harvard…one of my mother's brothers attended." Mary brightened and sat up straighter, leaning forward fully engaged with curiosity.

"Well, they conducted a study during the war of soldiers who spent months on end away from female interaction. The study assessed the impact of the men who did occasionally explore themselves physically versus those who did not."

Mary blinked. "And?"

Clarkson stood and walked to the bookcase across the room. "The soldiers who did so maintained a more positive attitude psychologically, were more physically resilient, and had a higher survival rate. The poor chaps who abstained from any form of physical release became more despondent and unfortunately experienced a higher loss rate. It's a fascinating area of medical research actually." Clarkson reached up and pulled down a small slender text book.

_Huh_, Mary thought. Indeed, quite interesting. "So it had nothing to with their romantic content?"

Clarkson sat back down across from her. "No, it does not. Sometimes it is simply a release of tension. And, it is not uncommon at all for a man to wake up in the morning slightly physically aroused. In which case he would take matters in to his own hands….so to speak, if you'll forgive the expression."

Mary blushed again as Clarkson's choice of words was much more direct but made her chuckle and glance downward at her hands. "Of course."

"I have the medical book right here in case you are interested."

He held it out and Mary's hands took the book and she read the title.

"I can assure you, Lady Mary, that nothing a man would do in such a situation is remotely related to his marital satisfaction." He paused then added, "Just as it wouldn't be for a woman."

Mary's eyes widened at the doctor's reference to women. She hadn't made that comparison and suddenly thought about her own private exploration of her body and realized that Clarkson was right. It didn't have anything to do with her love for Matthew, in fact quite the opposite—she had fantasized about him when she did. She felt her heart lighten and a smile crossed her face. Yes, now she understood.

"Thank you, Doctor Clarkson." She handed the text book back to him. "I appreciate your generous time and for sharing so much helpful information with me. You've been most helpful." She was tugging her white gloves on to her hands.

"You're most welcome, Mrs. Crawley. If there is anything further I can assist you with please let me know."

"Thank you." She nodded and with that, Mary made her way out of the clinic and in to the sunny streets of Downton.

She walked along the sidewalk on her way back to Crawley house, thinking about what Clarkson had said. She turned the thoughts of their conversation over in her head, suddenly feeling happy that Matthew was not only engaging in something that was apparently normal for men—and women—to do, but which also may very well have contributed to his survival at the front.

As she continued walking, the street curved and she saw Crawley House up ahead. She smiled at the sight of their home. She also smiled at the notion of somehow pleasuring her husband in a manner that she had seen him do in secret to himself, but it must be a surprise. Today was Friday so Carson would still be at work, and Matthew would not return from his law firm in Ripon until after seven. She thought about the household schedule and remembered that Carson would be taking Sunday off; and Matthew usually reserved Sunday afternoons to review case work in his study. Yes, Sunday, she thought, would be her next opportunity to find Matthew at home alone.

She made every attempt to keep her Cheshire smile at bay as she opened the door to the house.


	3. Chapter 3

Mary stomped her feet at the back door to the house, knocking the dust from her riding boots. Despite the warm weather, she had her grey jodhpurs on, but the short sleeved white blouse helped her to feel cooler. Walking in to Crawley House, she looked around, pulling her riding gloves off. It was quiet as a tomb—only the sound of the grandfather's clock ticking softly in the hallway greeted her. She set her gloves down on the hall table, making her way to the study where she presumed she would find Matthew. She walked quietly, the sound of her boots falling softly on the hall carpet. Approaching the study, she angled her head to peer in to see if Matthew was there.

She found him seated on the brown leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his head bent down, engrossed in reading a file. He gripped a pencil in his teeth and his eyes were trained on the legal brief in his lap. He was dressed in a light shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of casual brown trousers, and he was bare footed. Mary smiled watching him, admiring how the sunshine beaming in from the windows reflected off his light blond hair. He reminded her of a university student.

He suddenly looked up, noticing her, and an infectious smile enlightened his features. "Hello darling! How was your ride?"

"Lovely but hot, thank you very much." She was leaning against the door frame. "Would you like some tea?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "It sounds wonderful, but it's so bloody hot."

"Quite," she exhaled, unbuttoning the upper buttons of her blouse and crossing the room towards one of the windows.

Matthew watched her, his eyes roaming over her figure. "I've always liked the way those jodhpurs look on you."

She smiled at him sideways as she opened the window. "They're just a pair of pants."

"Maybe, but your bottom looks entirely different in them than a gentleman's. Frankly, I think trousers might be just as easily suited for women as for men." He watched her adjust the open window, still eyeing her figure.

She laughed. "Just because our bottoms look good in them?"

"Call me a chauvinist but I'm not ashamed to say it, even in this day and age of women's rights." He watched her as she worked to open the window further. "I remember the first time I saw you in a pair of breeches and boots."

"So do I."

"You called me an uncouth cad and said I was ridiculous. You called me a sea monster."

"You called me a pushy daughter, a snob, and said my parents were trying to marry one of us off on you."

He huffed out a laugh. "And here I sit, married to Lady Mary Crawley. I think I read the tea leaves rather accurately if you ask me." His voice was dripping with mock sarcasm. He loved their little sparring matches. It had always aroused him, which it was doing as they spoke.

She laughed and eyed him as she made a final adjustment to the window, opening it further in hopes of increasing the breeze in to the room. "And then I realized that you were actually Perseus, heroically saving me from the sea monster."

He chuckled at the memory. "Come here and sit down before you fall out of that window and I have to rescue you again."

She laughed and stepped over to the sofa, taking a seat next to him. "What are you reading?"

He raised a brow, re-focusing his attention back to the file in his lap. "A brief for a case we're working on. Mind-numbingly boring, I'm afraid, but nevertheless I must review it."

She raised a hand and ran several fingers through his hair. His head went back against the sofa, and he almost seemed to purr at her touch. Her blouse was gaping open revealing her cleavage and most of her brassier, and his eyes admired the view. He reached up with one hand and traced a finger along the open edge of the blouse, pulling it open even further.

Mary chuckled, her hand sliding through his soft hair. Seeing his eyes gaze at her décolletage, her fingers set to work and unbuttoned the remaining buttons of her blouse, slowly pulling it open over her shoulders and sliding it down her arms, leaving her clad only in her brassier, breeches and boots.

Matthew sighed and he touched his fingers to her shoulders, tenderly stroking a finger tip down over the swell of her breast.

Mary leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek.

"Mary…" he exhaled softly. "I love you and you are a bewitching distraction, but I really must finish reading this file."

She continued placing soft, wet kisses along his jaw to his ear, seducing a moan from his throat. "I think you can take a short respite, can't you?" Her voice was deep and velvety against his skin.

"I really shouldn't…" But his protest was cut off as she moved one of her legs so that she was straddling his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. She reached down and pushed the legal file out of the way and rested her pelvis down against him, her leather boots rubbing against the leather upholstery of the sofa.

As she settled herself, her satin covered bust line swayed in front of his eyes, prompting him to bend forward and place a kiss in the valley of her cleavage.

Mary smiled and chuckled again, bracing her hands on the back of the sofa behind his head, whispering in to his ear. "See something you like, Mr. Crawley?"

His head went back against the sofa, his eyes gazing up in to hers. "You are a vixen, Mrs. Crawley…a temptress."

She smiled and leaned in, placing her lips over his, pressing a warm kiss to his mouth. Matthew parted his lips almost immediately, welcoming her kiss, wanting to feel her tongue slide against his. He was obliged almost as quickly as Mary's slick, sensuous tongue rimmed his lower lip and then pushed in to his mouth. Their tongues tangled together as their bodies rubbed against each other. He moaned, wrapping his arms around her, and his hips rolled upward rubbing the front of his trousers between her legs harder.

As she kissed him, Mary reached her hands around to her back, and unfastened the brassier. She slid the straps down her arms and then over each hand. Matthew's breathing was pitched and he leaned his head down, his mouth brushing against one of her nipples, then gently nipping at it.

Mary groaned, her eyes momentarily closing and then opening, as she kissed the top of his head. She let him suckle against her for several moments then, gingerly, seductively, rolled her hips, rubbing her body against him and began to slowly slide down his legs.

Matthew's hands tightened their grip on her waist. "Where are you going?"

She smiled at him mischievously, her hands unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it open as she moved downward, sliding her hands and tongue over his torso. Her fingers unbuckled his belt, and unzipped and opened his pants. "I want to please you," she murmured as her hands pushed his pants and undergarment over his hips, urging him to lift his pelvis upward. She placed a kiss on his chest.

His brows knitted in to a question. "You _are_ pleasing me, darling, but it usually works better if we're both in the same location."

She chuckled and slid down on to her knees, pulling his trousers with her as she moved. Matthew gasped watching her pull his pants off over his bare feet as she kneeled between his legs. "Mary…" his voice was ragged and deep, filled with lust and, she noted, a little surprise.

She looked up at him. He was now dressed only in his shirt, which was fully open revealing his chest, torso and the length of his long body. "Feeling cooler now?" She posed the question in a quiet suggestive voice. She ran her hands over his midsection and then down over his thighs. Bending forward she placed gentle, wet kisses over his abdomen, her tongue slipping over his navel.

Matthew chuckled and his head fell back against the sofa again. "Oh, God…"

His tummy vibrated as he laughed at her ticklish ministrations, making her smile as well. She traced her kisses down over his hips, avoiding his center, but noticing that his body was responding to her attentions. Her hands tenderly massaged his thighs and then her fingertips grazed over his sex.

"_Oh, my God_…" His eyes were shut and his lips remained parted, taking deep breaths.

Mary grinned and continued her exploration of his body with her hands. She smoothed them over his manhood, remembering how he had touched himself the other morning. She wanted to mimic the sensations she knew pleasured him, yet find her own way of touching him that would be new and intensely arousing for him.

She slid her hands over his length and then back up, her fingertips making little circles over the tip of his arousal.

Her movements caused him to quietly whimper, "Mary, please…" He leaned forward reaching a hand to her shoulder. "Let me make love to you, my darling…"

Mary put a palm up to his chest, and gently nudged him to sit back. "Matthew….just relax for me, please."

He was breathing heavily, his eyes intently watching her. A sheen of perspiration glistened over his brow as he panted in the warm humid room and his heart rate increased. His hands were still reaching out to Mary's arms, but she tenderly settled him back down against the leather sofa. Mary's hands stroked him again, and she leaned forward and lightly touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of his manhood.

He shuddered and watched her in amazement.

She did it again, and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, tasting him, as one of her hands firmly griped him and slid up his shaft.

His eyes closed and his hips bucked upward reflexively. "Uuuuugh…" he whimpered and Mary felt a shiver run threw her straight to her core. She loved watching him as she pleasured him, watching the nuances and ecstasy across his face, and overwhelmed by the feeling of control and power. She touched her mouth to him again, this time sliding her lips down over the plump head, her tongue swirling around the edges. She slid her lips down several inches and then pulled back up, sucking as her mouth pulled up along the shaft, her hand gripping tightly right behind her mouth.

"Oh, Mary…I can't…please…."

She smiled at her husband, whose grasp of the English language is surpassed by few, and who was now uttering incomplete sentences as she loved his body. She traced her tongue down his cock and licked back up underneath, as her other hand caressed and gently tugged his sac.

He arched his back and gasped. "Oh, God, Mary, please…" He looked at her, his eyes dark with passion, his face grimaced in desire. "Please let me make love to you darling!"

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, her hands continuing their rhythm up and down his hard rod. "Matthew, by letting me pleasure you in such a way, you _are _making love to me…your trust and compassion is my love and fills me so very much to pleasure you." She lowered her mouth to him again and sucked hungrily at his flesh.

His chest was heaving with lust and arousal, his body thrumming at her touch. "Oh, Jesus, Mary…I can't hold it," he panted out as his hips rolled upward again. He was gritting his teeth. "_Dear, God…"_

The room was filled with the sounds of Matthew's moans and breathing, and the slick sounds of Mary's hands and mouth moving over him. She focused her attention to the engorged head of his erection, which was now dark purple and glistening from her kisses and the desire straining inside of him. It reminded her of a ripe wet plumb. The shaft was rock hard and small veins bulged along its length. Her fingers teased and pumped the head while her other hand stroked over his sac again. And suddenly she felt a spasm begin in his sex, causing her to gasp at the intensity.

"_Jesus Christ_!" His hips thrust upward and her hand moved quickly up and around the crown of his cock and he cried out loudly, his groans filling the room, "Uuuuungh!" His face twisted in pleasure as his essence streamed on to his abdomen. He cried out again and his hands clutched at the sofa. She reached out a hand and slipped her fingers through his, anchoring him as he climaxed and gasped.

Matthew's mind was a blur as his whole body felt like an electrical charge was shooting through him, and out of him, his heart hammering in his chest. He had never felt anything like it before, his body shuddering with his release and the feel of her hands and mouth.

Mary still held his hand in hers and bent down and kissed his fingers. Her other hand smoothed over his thigh and hip, caressing him and soothing him. After they made love, Matthew reminded her of Diamond after a hard run—he needed to be gentled and tended to in a special way. As Matthew lay back against the sofa cushion, sighing and panting, she slowly rose and stepped to the bathroom, and returned with a towel and a glass of cool water.

He was slumped down in the sofa, his eyes closed, catching his breath. As she took a seat next to him again, one of his hands patted her arm tenderly, making her smile. She touched the fluffy towel to his forehead, tapping at the beads of perspiration and placing a kiss to his brow.

"Maaaary…" He exhaled her name and then opened his eyes to look at her. "What has gotten in to you?" His eyes and his voice were filled with affection.

She handed him the water and shrugged. "I just wanted to make you feel very wonderful all over."

He gulped a sip of water eyeing her playfully. "Ah, I see…." He took the towel and dabbed it to his body.

She bent down and kissed his lips, and he hummed as he kissed her in return, mumbling against their kiss, "and it had nothing to do whatsoever with your incarceration in the closet the other morning?"

Mary froze. She drew her head back and looked at him, seeing that a sly smile crept across his features. "Matthew!" She gasped. "How could you know that?" Her eyes sparkled in stunned amazement.

He took another long sip of water. "Because I have lived in this house for eight years. And every morning that I have walked in to that bathroom the closet door has remained ajar because the door jams if it is shut." He drank another cooling sip. "Mother got locked in there the first week in the house and spent the better part of an afternoon in it until Mrs. Bird returned from the market and rescued her."

Mary sat in awe at his confession. "And you let me believe…all along?" Now it was her turn to speak in incomplete sentences. "You are an exhibitionist!"

He thought for a moment in jest. "Now hold on! I was supposed to be in there alone, after all, was I not?"

"Well…." To that Mary had no reply, because indeed he was supposed to be in the restroom alone.

"And did you not conceal your presence?"

She did, indeed, Mary thought. "All right, all right" she confessed, playfully throwing her hands up. "You have me, I suppose."

He smiled and pulled her close. "I certainly do." He kissed her again, lingering on her mouth. "And you have me as well, clearly..." He laughed. "And all of that compelled you to….?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his. "I suppose so. I was curious. And I really did want you to feel wonderful."

He caressed her cheek with his hand. "I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Mary rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled with him as his hands roamed over her back in warm, soothing caresses, comforting her body and lulling her to nod off for a nap.

* * *

Monday morning, Mary awoke bright and early. Matthew's side of the bed was empty. He had been eager to head to his office with all the notes he made after reviewing the legal brief.

Mary stretched her arms and pulled on her robe, feeling the need for a warm shower. She slid on her slippers and padded in to the bathroom. She busied herself with her toothbrush and twisting her braid up in to a white shower cap.

She began pulling at the sash of her robe, tugging it open. Just then as she looked in the mirror, she caught sight of the reflection of the bathroom, including the closet door behind her. Turning around, she noticed it was most definitely closed tightly. A smile crossed her lips as she pondered opening it and revealing Matthew for the little spy he was; or, to take matters in to her own hands….so to speak.

Fin!


End file.
